Who are you?

Two billion years ago reality was birthed from nothingness and I was there. I may be a little fuzzy on the time so sue me. The important bit was that I was there. I can prove this. Particles so small that they are hard to see in me were once part of what gave way to all that is. Little itty bitty parts of me were part of the first matter created. It’s a law of physics, look it up if you don’t believe me. (Something about how matter never can be destroyed – it can only change states. Solid, gas, and liquid. I am all three.)

This is not true.

It is true if I give myself a moment to breath and find comfort in the past. With past comforts I am also given excuse to believe in the future. In the future I can see myself living comfortably rocking on the front porch of my home, stomping my feet on wooden boards. I never have to worry about locking the door. Seriously, the White Stripes make this whole “tolle” outlook hard.

There is not an original bone in my body. This is borrowed from somewhere. I am borrowed. Originality is equal to spit.

The future does not exist; the only parts of me that exist in time are the ones that need fear. I do not need fear as much as I need to survive.

I am Patrick Yurick.

 

I shot the Sheriff. And the Deputy. :)